


SEVENTY SEVEN.

by dhawanmaster



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, TW: nazis mentioned in prologue, set after spyfall, tw: war, what happened in those 77 years?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:29:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhawanmaster/pseuds/dhawanmaster
Summary: "I just had the most infuriating seventy-seven years of my life."The Master took the long way round, not by choice.All thanks to the Doctor, his life was shaped in ways he never thought possible, ways that have only fuelled the flame of fury inside him.This is his story, his time stranded on Earth, beginning in 1940s France.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Escaping the Eiffel

1943 Paris was certainly a less than ideal place to be stranded by your best enemy, but that was the predicament the Master had landed himself in. He was very aware the inconvenience of this confrontation was partially his own fault, but it was just that. An inconvenience. Nothing he wasn’t able to get out of.

Tissue compression device, in his pocket, always comes in handy. Of course, being such primitive creatures that these Nazis were, they were much too stunned when the first of their men got shrunk down to the size of a bug to act in their defence.

One by one he picked them off in his rage, it was just too easy.

There, atop the Eiffel tower, he left their shrunken bodies, not without carelessly stepping on one, the weight of his steel-capped boot crushing it like it was a mere insect. And to him, in a way, it was.

His leather-gloved hands slipped the TCE device back into the pocket of his coat as he looked out over the balcony of the tower, taking a deep breath in of the night air. Watching Paris below him in all its historic tragedy was calming, gave him a moment to just revel in what he’d done, how many lives he’d taken without mercy, the look on his Doctor’s face when he dropped the bombshell that was Gallifrey’s destruction. And so much more was to come, he just had to go find her.

There was no real rush for his revenge, his ongoing plot. He thought he might cook a nice meal, open some wine, sit out in the ruins of Gallifrey to enjoy and admire his work that he regarded so highly. He could go kill the Doctor’s favourite pet, Yasmin, for kicks some other time.

And so, on he went. He threw the hat down over the railing, like it was a bug he’d plucked from himself in disgust, there was no need for it anymore and he found the disguise more than pitiful. He smiled to himself once rid of it, more a twisted smirk, as he took a slow and careless stroll down the stairs of the tower and headed for where he’d left his TARDIS.

The catch was, it wasn’t there. But what was, was a message from the Doctor. Their psychic link hadn’t been broken off; she knew based upon the energy patterns when he noticed the ship was missing. A hot flash of anger ran through his body like electricity, it was almost painful the way rage coursed through his being.

“Sorry,” she said, but her tone was entirely sarcastic, “.. well, if you will leave TARDISes lying about the place! And so obnoxious, too. You didn’t even try to hide your ship. After you stranded me last time, I thought I’d use it as a way out. You did say I wouldn’t get far without my TARDIS. How wrong you were, dear.”

Her attempt at humour was feeble, _annoying,_ and he could almost feel her _flinch_ as she felt his rage.

 _Weak_ , he thought. She probably heard it. He half-hoped she did.

“Alright, alright.. I think it would do you good. Currently, you’re seventy seven years away from where I am in 2020. Well, seventy six and 8 months, but that- Anyway. You can sit and reflect, besides, I’m not letting you go through with whatever it is you’re planning, Master. Enjoy Paris.”

Through gritted teeth, he seethed, “You will pay for this, Doctor. _Mark my damn words_.”

“Oscar, load the largest boxes on first, we can stack the smaller ones after,” Julien said, he was a small boy, only in his teens. Dark hair and porcelain blemished skin, he worked hard to make sure his family could eat. A lot of responsibility for a kid, but times were tough. Many his age were in a similar predicament. With so many fathers lost to the war, young boys were assuming that role, filling boots far too big for them.

The Master was posing as crew, loading up a cargo ship that was headed for England from Dieppe. Vital trade, but done almost entirely in secret almost like it was black market business. In ways, it was. Not your typical idea of such, no drugs or body parts involved; all food. But in an age of strict rations, it was like precious jewels.

It was hard to swallow his pride for the time being and accept that a kid of perhaps not even 16 was training him on the job, but he didn’t have much room to debate that. Besides, he would need to get along with Julien, if the plan was going to be guaranteed successful.

Box after box was loaded up onto the ship, most tucked away on the lower deck where it was locked up and safe. Staff for the journey was kept minimal, simply the captain and a few crew mates, that had made the journey from England.

This wasn’t going to stop the Master, or Oscar as he was calling himself. This was his one way ticket out of German-occupied France, and he was going to jump at the opportunity. The journey was only a few hours, luckily, and he planned to spend it taking a power nap. (What were they going to do, throw him overboard if he refused to work?)

For a timelord, such slow passage through linear time was more than just boring. It was utterly excruciating. Even when it was five hours, it was going to feel like much longer when your back was up against a wooden crate on a freezing cold ship, the taunting squeak of rats occasionally ringing out in the dark.

A dingy, dirty ship was no TARDIS. That was for sure.

There was a bit of light that sparked up near him as he tried to get comfortable on the lower deck, not to much avail. A flame. For a moment he wondered if a fire had broken out in his sleepy and delirious state, and after having watched his people burn at his own hands, it made him tense.

Only when he saw Julien’s face behind the flame of the match he was holding did the tightness of his shoulders begin to ease. Julien was lighting a cigarette; god knows where he’d got them from at his age.

“What are you doing here, kid? Shouldn’t you be in school?” The Master asked, rubbing his face tiredly, his voice merely a grumble. The ship was moving, had been for quite some time, Julien should have been on his way home but instead here he was, bothering the timelord.

Julien twisted his body through the gaps between boxes like it was a maze, using the match to light his way towards the Master. He was being quick, so by the time the match had burnt down and was on the edge of scorching his fingertips, he was able to sit down beside him. In the dark, the Master rolled his eyes.

“You shouldn’t be here” he pushed, looking at the young boy’s dark outline, it was all could really be made out besides the glowing of the lit cigarette, “your family.”

“Mother told me she wanted me to do this. Says I’ll be safer, there’s a better life out there she says” he explained, voice a little shaky. He almost felt sorry for the boy, but he wasn’t convinced he was capable of empathy. Pity was an entirely different thing, he reasoned with himself.

His TCE was in his pocket, but he didn’t want to use it, even if Julien was starving him of much needed beauty sleep. He just couldn’t pinpoint whether or not it was out of a desire for the young man to find the prosperous life he envisioned was awaiting him, or whether it was just that Julien had done this job for a while, knew the ins and outs of the ship which was an advantage. After all, he needed pawns for his game, and this kid could prove useful in getting out of here and staying hidden.

He convinced himself of the latter quite easily, it seemed most rational. And most like him.


	2. Mr Briggs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now in England, The Master and Julien are still stranded.  
> The resolution to this?  
> Identity theft. Obviously.

“Are you following me, kid?” The Master asked, fuse short as ever and patience dwindling. He valued his solitude and could very much do with not being bothered by humans while he was stuck here, living through human history. It had been hours, and his patience was already wearing thin.

It was bad enough breathing the same air as them, frankly. If, somehow, he got lonely in all the boredom he’d just get a black cat, that was the plan floating around the back of his occupied mind. They can’t talk, and for an Earth creature were quite cute.

“Yes,” Julien replied, at least he was honest, “forgive me, sir. I don’t know where else to go, really. I’ve never been to England in my life. I’ve never been anywhere outside of Dieppe other than Paris to see my aunt and-”

“And so I _have_ to help you?” the Master questioned, not even glancing at the boy who was speed-walking to keep up with his stride.

Any other inconvenience would be a trigger in his mind to simply get rid of the problem. Quite literally to minimise it. But Julien was sixteen, a young boy who was simply trying to find a better life, and in many ways, he saw himself in that.

He saw his childhood, he saw the time vortex swirling so vivid in his mind and for a moment he could have sworn the drums in his head got louder, made his ears ring. Gallifrey’s prestigious academy, where some of his worst traumas occurred and all he wished day and night was to escape. To board a TARDIS of his own and fly away to the stars, where no one could touch him. Overstimulated, he stopped in his tracks, breathing heavily, almost flinching at the noise.

Here was this kid, who’d actually managed to escape, who’s own mother had encouraged it. This naïve kid had nowhere and no one to turn to, just him, the co-worker he’d known for merely hours. And yet, he felt a responsibility to just get him a place to stay and a meal to eat, just that. Nothing else, just to get him out of his hair. That’s all.

“Sir, are you okay? I’m sorry, I.. I can go, I don’t mean to bother you.”

“No,” he replied shakily, a little too quickly for his own liking, “…look I’m getting the first train out of here, if you want to join me fine but you’re buying your own ticket. And you’re handing over those cigarettes. All of them.”

Julien complied, quite happily emptying the left-hand pocket of his worn, oversized waistcoat. A hand-me-down, clearly, and all he had in his possession. Where else would he go? He felt safer looking to this man for help, even if he was a complete stranger, one he’d met just hours ago. One he knew nothing about.

All things aside, Julien was just a kid in a desperate situation. Whether out of pity, nostalgia, or even sheer boredom, the master wanted to help set him on track. Just a job, a cheap apartment, and then he could be left alone.

They crossed the tracks, finding the platform which was relatively empty, and just waited. The drums seemed to ease in his mind, focus elsewhere. They never left, but most of the time it was manageable.

Knowing what train they were boarding was a complete afterthought, the Master just knew he didn’t want to stay here. To do what, lift boxes onto ships? As dull as life was going to be, he knew he could make improvements here and there.

Kent.

Not far from London, but _not London,_ which during this decade was ideal. The Master wasn’t impressively clued up on the events of Earth history, but he knew that vaguely. The threat was high, but relatively lower than London itself.

“Do you have family here or something, sir?” Julien asked, to which the Master simply shook his head.

Julien frowned, puppy-like eyes shining with fresh fear. Stepping off the train when it came to a still, Julien followed quickly behind as they dodged people and their suitcases to get to the exit, the smell of smoke in the air.

“So… Where do we go?” he asked, “What do we do? I thought you lived here. I haven’t any money, sir.”

“Don’t panic, kid” he said nonchalantly, expertly taking someone’s map book right from their hands without them even noticing, “I know what I’m doing. Somewhat.”

He flicked through the pages, Julien trying to peer over his shoulder to take a look, full of curiosity despite his worry and initial regret over fleeing France. This was far from his comfort zone, of course.

“Ah, its not even far from here. Five minutes on foot. And, at this hour, it should be closed.”

“Sir, where? If its closed, how is that a good thing?”

The Master patted his head with an amused, brotherly affection.

“Housing office. You’ve no documentation and neither do I. And, we need somewhere to stay. Come on, rookie. Catch up.”

Adjusting his waistcoat in a clear show of pride, he followed the directions of the map, an apprehensive Julien following like a lost puppy. The Master often forgot that most people he encountered were going to normally follow the status quo, stay within the lines and adhere to rules, conventions. It was a disconnect he’d never quite comprehend, so Julien needed to catch up, no compromise.

The streets were relatively empty, and the sun was going down. All curtains were drawn, in preparation for the blackout.

 _This is going to be a piece of piss_ , he thought.

“Look out for me, okay? I’ll go in,” the Master instructed, “steal an identity, along with their possessions; easy. Nothing I haven’t done before.”

“You’re actually doing this, are you crazy?” Julien asked, panic in his eyes, whisper-shouting and looking around him frantically in fear of getting caught.

“ _We’re_ doing this, Julien. And yes. Entirely. Any more questions, or can I get on with it?”

Julien sighed to himself, and apprehensively nodded. Luckily, his TCE being multifunctional much like a sonic screwdriver was going to make things much, much easier. It unlocked the door with ease, much to Julien’s surprise. But he didn’t ask questions.

Feeling around against the wall, the Master found the light switch and flicked it on, a low warm hue filling the room.

“Shout me if anyone comes by, okay?”

“Okay.”

Julien’s voice was shaky, it made the Master chuckle to himself. How he’d wound up with an accomplice who would shake if tasted with stealing a piece of broccoli was beyond him and amusing all the same. Though, it wasn’t a setback, the Master preferred complete control over his plans anyway. No one could execute any plan as perfectly as himself, and he wouldn’t trust anyone to try.

Opening up filing cabinets, he flicked through documents, scanning over key information, just to identify his victim. This is the same thing he did in assuming the identity of O, so he felt an expertise here, a comforting familiarity.

“Archie Clement, 40, mmmph.. married with kids, that makes it harder... What’s this one, James Oscar Briggs,” he read aloud, “30, I can pass as 30.”

He flicked through the papers in the file, reading through addresses, employment, copies of identification. All confidential, of course, or intended to be.

“New in town, Mr Briggs, how convenient. Lovely home. Starting your job tomorrow, writing for the paper. Perfect.”

Pocketing the files after rolling them up like a newspaper, he cleared up to make it seem as if no one had been in there at all, covering over everything with gloved hands just in case. As, technically, former MI6 it was an easy task.

Waiting outside, looking around anxiously, it was a relief to Julien when the Master returned, or Oscar as he knew him.

“Lucky day, kid. Got us a house... Just need to hijack a car to get us there. Easy stuff.”

Arriving at the house late evening they were both glad for, but Julien wasn’t exactly sure what any of this entailed being as naïve and experienceless as he was. The TCE in the Master’s pocket was ready, though.

“So this is your home?” Julien asked.

“Ours until you get a job and can go find somewhere else. But its big enough, so stay out of my way and it’ll be fine.”

“But.. how? I don’t understand. How do you steal a house?”

“You don’t. You steal an identity. Do they teach you nothing in schools?”

“But that means- the real… Someone lives here.”

 _When will the penny drop?_ “Yes. James Oscar Briggs. Me, now. He just moved here, so no one will be any the wiser. An unfamiliar face can’t go missing.”

Julien looked mortified, everything finally beginning to unravel in his mind.

They were about to kill a man, hide the evidence, and _become_ him. And the man by his side was acting as if this was absolutely normal. Judging by the grin on his face and glint in his brown eyes, not even just normal, but _exciting_.

“How are you going to get away with this? You’ll be hanged, sir! This is ridiculous I won’t do this.”

“It’s fool proof. Tissue compression, classic” he said, but Julien was no wiser, those words meant nothing to him even as the Master waved his TCE in the air.

Seeing the look on Julien’s face, he elaborated condescendingly, “I’m going to shrink him.”

“Shrink?! Are you out of your mind, sir?”

“One hundred percent,” he retorted, proudly.

“Such a thing isn’t possible, it doesn’t exist. You can’t shrink someone. What do you think you are, a mad scientist out of a novel?”

He just chuckled, getting out of the car.

“Is now a bad time to mention that I’m an alien?”


End file.
